The Halfling (Aria Fae #1)

by H. D. Gordon

  All of this, of course, was ridiculous, and not at all what was revealed to be true.

  When Caleb opened the door, however, and I slowly walked inside, I could not have been more surprised about what was there than if it had been one of those things.

  The two double doors let into a rather large suite, complete with a bed, a sitting area containing a lush couch, chairs and tables, and a door that I would assume led to a bathroom. The entire west wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, and an unobstructed view of the grounds with a backdrop of the skyline of Grant City offered a breathtaking sight.

  What drew my attention, though, was the young man lying atop the king-sized bed. An IV snaked out of his arm, and the types of machinery one finds in hospitals surrounded him on both sides. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the impressive room.

  I paused, feeling my heart drop a few inches, but Caleb held out his hand to me, and I took it. His fingers held mine as he led me over to the side of the bed.

  This close, the resemblance was unmistakable. The young man’s jaw was the same handsome shape as Caleb’s, his cheekbones only a bit higher. His hair, having been combed recently by someone likely other than himself, was kept shorter than Caleb’s, but was the same shiny chestnut brown. His breathing was steady in a way that was deeper than sleep, long lashes pressed against his cheeks. His eyes were closed, but I knew that were I to see them open, they would be the same ocean blue as Caleb’s.

  “Your brother,” I heard myself whisper, a rush of empathy washing over me.

  “My brother,” Caleb confirmed, and was silent a moment. Then, with so much pain in his voice that it hurt me to hear it, he added, “His name is Christian, after my father, but we all just call him Chris.”

  My throat felt tight, my hands sweaty, and suddenly I wished that Caleb had not brought me here, though I understood perfectly well how important a gesture it was. He didn’t show this to just anyone. Of that, I was sure, and yet, he was showing it to me.

  Only twice in my life had I seen a person in the state Caleb Cross’s brother was currently in. Once when I’d been child, and once again more recently. The first time, I’d been only eight years old, and visiting the hospital with my host family. My foster parents had been forced to bring me along when they couldn’t find someone to watch me, and having never been to a hospital in the human world—or any world, for that matter—it was an experience I would never forget.

  I’d wandered away while my hosts had been fretting over an ill niece, and had found myself in the hospital room of a beautiful young woman. I don’t remember getting there, only that I’d somehow ended up standing before the bed of the enchanting stranger, my heart breaking at the sight of her aura.

  Her face was relaxed, her body unresponsive. Her hair was a golden brown that cascaded over the stark white of the pillow, her back tilted up just slightly by the raised bed. At the time, she seemed to me the most lovely of women, though looking back now I can say that she was probably no older than sixteen. She had the longest, thickest eyelashes that were dark and lovely against the olive color of her skin.

  I’m not sure how long I stood staring at her, examining her aura, the likes of which made no sense to me, as I was unfamiliar with the term ‘coma’ at the time. I’d heard someone approaching the room, and had quickly hidden in the closet as a doctor and a very upset woman and man entered the space.

  I’ll never forget the emotions that had washed over me as I watched the exchange between the doctor and the parents of the comatose girl in the bed. The heartache was so intense that I’d gripped my own chest and my eyes burned with tears that were not my own.

  I learned that the beautiful bedridden girl had been in this state for nearly six months, and the doctor was encouraging the distraught parents to consider the inconsiderable. To this day, I’ve not felt a pain to rival that which I encountered that day. I’d slid down into a ball in the closet, my knees drawing up to my chest. Eventually, the visitors left the room, though there was no way to tell how much time I passed in that state, and I ventured out of my hiding place like a mouse on the lookout for the housecat.

  I’d told myself to leave, to make a swift exit, but I’d been drawn back toward the bed, the weight on my chest and shoulders growing heavier with each step I took. My mind had flown a mile a minute, my heartbeat keeping its pace.

  What had appalled me most of all was the doctor’s suggestion. I could clearly see in her aura all the signs that indicated consciousness, and with a slow dawning, particular horror, I realized that the lovely young stranger was very much alive in her mind, trapped in her body.

  I’ll never know why, but I’d reached up and taken her hand… and marveled as her aura lit up as brilliantly as any I’d ever seen. With caught breath, I’d asked, “Can you hear me?”

  And, again, that flare. All the possibilities of this were much too large for my eight-year-old mind to consider, but I’ve since contemplated them plenty.

  I stayed with the young lady that night, stimulating her mind with conversation and company by guide of her aura, and when she opened her eyes, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Her eyes were brown, like melted chocolate. I could live a thousand lifetimes and I would never forget the exact color of them.

  I’d gotten into so much trouble with my hosts over my disappearance that evening that I’d been immediately shipped back to the Broker’s headquarters and reassigned a new ‘family’. The result on my mindset and mood had been much more severe.

  The second time I’d seen someone in a minimally conscious state had been nearing two months ago. I’d awoken a certain Sorceress Queen who’d gone comatose with the use of dark magic. That, along with some other indiscretions regarding the same Sorceress Queen, was how I’d ended up here, in Grant City.

  Every time I came across such a person, my whole life seemed to change shortly thereafter, so you can see why this intimate exhibition on the part of Caleb had all but stolen my speech and wrenched my heart.

  “How long has he been like this?” I asked, because I was helpless to stop myself.

  Caleb swallowed hard, and despite all the mystery still surrounding him and his father, I could do nothing against my softening toward him.

  “Nearly a year,” he answered. “Doctors aren’t positive about him ever recovering… but we can’t bear to…” He cleared his throat. “So he just lays here, day after day.”

  I felt my fingers tighten around Caleb’s. “I’m so sorry,” I said, and the words were as inadequate as they always were in such situations.

  A nurse entered the room, drawing our attentions away from the bed, and I had to suppress a sigh of relief. I needed a moment to collect myself.

  “Mr. Cross,” said the nurse, a middle-aged woman with a kind face. “How are you this evening, dear?” She noticed me and a look of surprise passed over her features, but I could tell by her aura that her affections for Caleb were genuine. “Oh, you brought a visitor.”

  “Mrs. Henry, this is Aria,” Caleb said in introduction.

  Mrs. Henry studied me with her motherly gaze. “She’s rather beautiful, Caleb,” she said to him, and to me, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aria.”

  I offered a smile that I hoped didn’t appear as distraught as I felt. “Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Henry.”

  She winked at Caleb. “Ah, and the countenance of a lady. You ought to hold on to her, young man.”

  Caleb turned his gaze on me, a dimple appearing on one side of his face. “I’ve every intention, Mrs. Henry,” he said, and I felt my cheeks flare.

  She asked him if he would assist her for a moment with approving the nurse’s schedule for the following week, and the two of them retreated to the corner of the room where a writing desk sat, promising to be quick about the matter.

  I watched them, telling myself to move away from the damn bed in which Caleb’s brother was resting, and my body doing no such thing.

  I saw in equal parts resolve and
horror as my hand reached out and gripped that of the comatose man lying before me, same as the two others had done before.

  CHAPTER 49

  One of the great defects of my personality has always been my inability to refuse help to someone whom I know very well I could offer it, even when I was aware of the fact that offering such assistance was not in my personal best interest.

  In truth, if I had to attribute the majority of my struggles back to one shortcoming, it would be this. Once reeled in, my empathy and nature always prevented me from walking away, from taking the dismissive path. It was how I’d ended up here. It was why I was practically alone in the world.

  I could no more resist taking Christian Cross’s hand than a moth can resist the pull of light in the darkness, and when I saw the reaction in his aura, I knew there was no turning back.

  The world around me melted away, and my vision tunneled in on the young man before me. His aura and my own met and mingled, the colors blurring and swirling to create a feeling of vertigo. My eyes slipped closed against it, a pulling sensation forming somewhere within me.

  I was steady on my feet, but I felt as though I was swaying, falling through open air, the drain on my soul immediate and forceful. Forcing my eyes to open, I watched as certain parts of Chris’s awareness began to light up where before they had been void and inactive. The scene was blurring, my head now spinning rather than just tilting, and my heart was beating a million miles a minute as I saw his eyelids flutter.

  There are no words to truly describe the feeling of reigniting a conscious soul to its fuller capacity. It’s something that must be felt to be understood, that must be experienced to be comprehended. It took everything and nothing; an exchange in equal parts an agony and a gift.

  Very luckily for my part, there was a large armchair only a few steps behind me where I was standing beside the bed. Upon accomplishing the feat, I found myself stumbling back and collapsing into the chair, my eyes blurring.

  It had taken less time for me to induce the mindfulness than it had the previous two times, and the swiftness with which I’d completed it had me unable to keep my legs.

  As I blinked and tried to steady my breathing, my movements caught the attention of Mrs. Henry and Caleb, and seeing me, both rushed over to inquire as to how I’d suddenly fallen ill.

  But there was no way for my condition to hold their attention long, because in the bed where a once comatose young man was lying, an awakening one had taken his place.

  “Oh my word!” cried Mrs. Henry. “Mr. Cross… Look!”

  Caleb had been kneeling before me, his handsome brow furrowed in concern, when he followed Mrs. Henry’s gaze to his brother’s bed. Caleb’s mouth fell open and I watched through watery eyes the most brilliant reaction to what he was seeing in his aura.

  Pulling myself up into a straighter position, I patted Caleb’s hand so that he knew I was all right, and he stood as if on strings and approached his brother’s bedside with a fear-filled hopefulness that struck me as one of the most sincere things I’d ever seen.

  A tear rolled down my cheek as Chris’s eyelids fluttered once more, and at last, opened, revealing the ocean blue color I’d known they would be.

  A silence followed that was only a handful of seconds, but somehow seemed an eternity. I felt terribly out of place, awfully uncomfortable and equally wretched for the toll the act had taken, but had not regained enough strength yet to trust myself to move. So I only sat and watched as what must’ve seemed a miracle to the others present took place.

  Caleb’s mouth hung open, the air clearly caught up in his lungs, his face of the expression that he thought he might be dreaming as he stared at his brother. Chris blinked up at him with the same wondered and confused expression, and I looked down at my hands, feeling as though an unwanted observer to such an intimate happening.

  “Caleb?” mumbled Chris. His voice was raw and low, more a guttural utterance than anything.

  This broke the dam that had formed in Caleb, and his voice broke now too as tears flowed freely from his eyes.

  “Chris,” he said. “I’m here. I’m here.” He continued to utter these words as Mrs. Henry fluttered about the room before leaving in haste to retrieve Dr. Cross.

  This made me stir, though I still felt much weaker than I liked, and I stood from my seat with measurable effort, cursing the heels on my feet for their added hindrance. I so did not want to be here when their father entered the room.

  This drew the attention of the two young men, and I suppressed a cringe and bit the inside of my cheeks in an attempt to add some color back to them.

  “I’m… just gonna go,” I said, moving toward the doors.

  Caleb came over to me quickly, taking both of my hands after swiping the tears from his cheeks. I could tell his mind was flying at G-force as he kissed the backs of my hands, making my battered heart flip.

  “I’ll have Mrs. Henry call for a car,” he told me. “Will you answer when I call you, please?”

  Whether I meant to or not, I said that I would, and slipped from the room with a shaky breath and a last glance at Chris, whose blue eyes followed me out. Once outside, I grabbed my cellphone from the small table beside the doors and followed the route we’d taken to get there to the exit.

  I passed Dr. Cross and Mrs. Henry on the way, but the two hardly noticed me with all the excitement, which was all the better. Stumbling outside the massive mansion, I took a seat on an enormous flowerpot while I waited for my ride.

  I couldn’t have remained on my feet just then had there been a million dollars on the line.

  CHAPTER 50

  Even with all the excitement surely taking place at the Cross manor at the moment, a black Lincoln pulled around the side of the house to retrieve me only moments later, Caleb having seen to my transportation as promised.

  Another Alfred clone in a black suit and driver’s cap opened the rear door of the car for me, and I folded myself inside, practically collapsing into the back seat. I must’ve looked at least half as bad as I felt, because he asked me if I was all right three times before we arrived back at my apartment, looking dubious each time I answered in the affirmative.

  It was all I could do to remain conscious until we got there, but even so, I didn’t miss the judgment in the driver’s voice as we pulled up in front of my building and he asked me if I was quite sure that this was the correct place.

  I assured him that it was, and opened the door before he could do it for me, offering my thanks before stumbling inside the building and closing the door behind me. Slumping back against the wall, I watched through a small, dirty, and barred window as the car idled a moment before pulling away.

  Then I turned toward the staircase. Four flights up. Whereas under normal conditions, this sort of journey would hardly have caused shortness in breath, now I was staring at the climb as though it were Mount Everest.

  “I’ll never make it,” I mumbled to myself, and gripped the railing. If I didn’t at least attempt, I would surely pass out here on the steps, and the last time I’d done that I’d ended up in Thomas Reid’s bed.

  This thought made me issue a weak giggle. I certainly wasn’t entirely opposed to doing the aforementioned. Then I remembered the beautiful blonde I’d seen exiting his apartment earlier that morning, and all the dramatics and melancholy of a seventeen-year-old girl filled me.

  Forget Thomas Reid and the perky blonde. Forget it all and concentrate only on making it up these endless stairs.

  About halfway up, I had to sit down on the steps to take off the terrible heels I vowed to never don again. As I was doing so, I heard someone coming, and tried to struggle to my feet quickly, but my swimming head had me plopping back down.

  When Thomas Reid came into sight, I tried to act natural. Well, as natural as one might act while sitting shoeless in an evening dress on the cracked and grimy stairway of an apartment building. For my mood, I wasn’t even able to meet his eyes, but only ignore him as he came to a stop
before me.

  His frame was large and imposing, his shadow falling over me even as he stood three steps below where I sat. I scooted to the side, indicating that he should pass, still not lifting my gaze to his, but he only continued to stand there. I could feel his hazel stare on me same as I could feel the open air on my bared legs.

  I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest, refusing to admit to myself that I was angry with him, and refusing further still to admit that this anger had absolutely no justification. Along with awakening Caleb’s brother, I’d submitted myself to a depression so fierce I knew from previous experience I would wallow in it for longer than was healthy for my mind or body.

  But I was helpless against it all. I was angry and sad and I wanted only to cry myself to sleep as I had so many nights of my life before this one. I said hello to the darkness, because it was my old friend, and as weak as it all made me feel, there was no escaping it.

  I was within a hair’s width of telling my handsome neighbor to just go around me already, the words surely promising a bite in address, when he let out a low sigh and scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

  Part of me railed against this. I didn’t want to be carried like a damsel in distress. I told myself that I ought to punch him so that he might drop me and I could then stalk off with all the rightful indignant posture that his act was inciting in me.

  As it was, I was too exhausted, too depleted to do any such thing, and instead of rejecting his hold, I found myself melting into it. He cradled me in his strong arms, the clean smell and warmth of him surrounding me, and I found my eyes slipping closed as my head rested against his wide chest, his strong heartbeat pounding softly beneath my ear. I would not have admitted it just then had someone placed a gun to my head, but I felt indescribably safe as Thomas Reid held me.